


West of the Moon

by Razzaroo



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, M/M, in which Ronan is a fairy tale princess, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 14:19:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7761199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Razzaroo/pseuds/Razzaroo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I haven’t come for a thing,” Adam says, “I have come for a prince.”</p><p>“He is a thing to you,” the lord of the green mantle says, “a prize. Proof of your victory. Of your importance. I know this. I know you.”</p><p> “You don’t know me,” Adam says, “You cannot know a nobody.”</p><p>[Fic for Pynch Week, day #1. Theme is fairytales.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	West of the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian: https://ficbook.net/readfic/4977756

Adam looks up at the tower. Or is it down the tower? He stands at the top, endless sky beneath him, and the base stretches up over his head, the earth a patchwork of green. He reaches out, he touches the pointed steeple, and then he’s falling, plummeting to the earth. His stomach is in his throat and his ears roar. The silver band on his wrist tightens enough that it’s painful.

He throws his arm out and catches himself on an open window, clinging to the sill; his arm jolts and he howls in agony, the silver band finally breaking under pressure. He watches as the pieces fall down to earth, glinting and flashing, before they are lost. Blood trickles down his wrist.

He has only one band left.

***

_The prince of the sleeping kingdom is a lonely creature. Adam watches as he tends his sleeping mother, his brother, and he feels something akin to pity in his chest. Is he allowed to pity royalty? Or is it the same as pitying a god?_

_“Why are you here?” the prince asks and he turns. Adam wonders how awful it must be, to be the only waking thing in the kingdom._

_“I’m going to bring your brother back,” he says._

_The prince sighs and sits back, “Then you’ll need to find the lord of the green mantle.”_

_“I can do that.”_

_“Then take these,” the prince says and he stands. He puts three bands on Adam’s wrist: the first is as gold as the sun, the second silver as the moon and the third as black as night, “The first shall pay your way. The second will save your life. The third will bring you home.”_

_***_

He pulls himself through the window and the world tilts until it’s all the right way up. The air smells of magic; it’s all green leaves and damp earth. His arm is tender and pained but he knows it could have been worse. It could have been worse.

The lord of the green mantle sits watching the window. Adam had expected something old and wizened but he was wrong. The lord is handsome and young, swathed in layers of green. Adam can’t look at him. He crooks a finger and Adam is drawn across the floor, as if across ice. The lord of the green mantle grasps his arm and Adam could feel his injuries healing beneath the lord’s hands.

“I don’t get visitors,” he says, “I know what you have come for. Try to take it.”

“I haven’t come for a thing,” Adam says, “I have come for a prince.”

“He is a thing to you,” the lord of the green mantle says, “a prize. Proof of your victory. Of your importance. I know this. _I_ _know you.”_

 “You don’t know me,” Adam says, “You cannot know a nobody.”

***

_He travels a day and a night before he meets a prince in a library tower. The prince welcomes him in and guides him to a map table under the cautious eye of a girl with short hair as dark as night. Adam sits and points to the map._

_“Do you know where I could find the lord of the green mantle?”_

_The girl shifts, “You will find him west of the moon, in a tower that starts in the sky.”_

_“How do I get there?”_

_The prince spins a raven feather in his palm before handing it to Adam, “Hold this flat in your hand and it shall point you where you want to go.”_

_“I taught him that,” the girl says and the prince looks fond._

_“You’re clever enough to kiss, you know,” he says and the girl shakes her head._

_“Never,” she says, “Unless death is your aim.”_

_“Everything dies,” the prince says and he sounds the statement sounds too bright on his lips._

_Adam thanks them and removes the gold band; it breaks into two in his hands. He gives one half to the girl and she accepts it._

_“I hope you break your curse,” he says. She raises an eyebrow._

_“I never said I was cursed.”_

_***_

Adam doesn’t know which way is up or down. He feels like he’s going up but the stairs of the tower are going down. The lord of the green mantle has given him the simple task of climbing the tower; climb the tower and find the prince and he is Adam’s.

He stops and stands to gain his bearings. He holds the raven feather in his hand and it spins lazily, a slow constant circle, before it points down. The prince is below. He must keep going down.

He tucks the feather back into his pocket and feels for the dagger at his hip, comfort washing in his chest when he touches the plain pommel, before he carries on. His legs burn and his knees ache from the strain of the climb. He feels the steps tilt, becoming steeper beneath his feet.

Still, he continues.

The sleeping kingdom waits.

***

_The moon is behind him now. Adam sits at the edge of the earth and looks out across the sky in front of him. He can see the long thin line of the tower in the distance. His stomach is a pit._

_A raven lands beside him, dropping the dagger she carries, and sits, both of them watching the tower. The shadows of thorns cross the clouds. The raven clicks her beak._

_“If I had your wings,” he says, “this crossing would be easier.”_

_“Kerah.”_

_“Thank you for the help.”_

***

The door is crossed with thorny branches. They cut into Adam’s hand when he grasps them, pulling them away from the door. His blood makes the handle slick. He presses against the door and it opens on a room of thorns. He pulls the dagger free.

Thorns catch Adam’s clothes as he hacks through the branches; they tear at his skin and he closes his eyes against them as they press in closer. His arms are torn and bleeding and the room feels as close and heavy as a tomb.

He emerges the other side lined with red. The only furniture is a wide bed entwined with thorny branches. The prince lies on his side, so deep in sleep that he doesn’t stir, even when Adam shakes his shoulder. Thorns wrap around him, some branches rooted in his skin; Adam sees them, thin and frail, under the skin of his throat and along his jaw. He grits his teeth and cuts the branches away. Still, the prince doesn’t stir.

Adam lifts the prince from the bed, pulling him free of any remaining thorns. The black band, the only one remaining, trembles on his wrist and casts a thin beam of sunlight, pointing the way. He secures his hold on the prince and follows the light.

The lord of the green mantle is nowhere to be seen.

 

***

The prince wakes the moment they cross back into the sleeping kingdom. He fights Adam’s hold and Adam drops him without ceremony, his arms crying with relief from the weight. The prince is bleary eyed and trembling like a newborn foal but he refuses Adam’s aid. Around them, the cattle stir and a raven cries overhead.

“You brought me home,” the prince says, “I thought you would…”

“Lock you in another tower?” Adam snorts, “Do I look like I have a tower?”

The prince curls his lip but says nothing. He leads the way across fields and forest, hands trailing over animals and dormant plants, bringing them out of their endless sleep and back to the waking world. Adam turns the black band over on his wrist but its beam of sunlight remains fixed on the prince’s back.

They stop on a hill that overlooks the still castle, with its slumbering courtyards and darkened towers. The prince’s expression is unreadable.

“Why?” he asks.

Adam thinks on his answer. He remembers the stillness and the quiet. He remembers how unnatural the place feels. He remembers the eldest prince, the only waking creature in the kingdom.

“It must have been lonely, being trapped in dreams,” he says and he knows it’s not really an answer.

The prince kneels, his hands pressed to the earth. To the east, the sky is light with the dawn and the moon is low, a small snowy disc. The prince breathes in and the black band snaps, falling in two pieces to the ground. He picks the pieces up, holds them loosely, and the raven lands on his shoulder in a flurry of feathers.

“You’re right,” he says and his hands close over the pieces of the band, “It is. But all dreams must end.”

He makes no move to return to the castle and Adam joins him on the ground, taking the opportunity to examine his injuries. The prince glances at him as he rests his chin on his knees and the pair of them watch as the castle slowly comes to life again, sat silently together on a grassy hill to the west of the moon.


End file.
